why am I single?

Another little update of what has been going on since I haven't been posting. I went and paid for the Spice Girls reunion concert, not once, but 2 times. Cate and I went the 1st time, the 2nd was with gay man, of course. Why am I single?

SPICE UP YOUR LIFE!

EDIT: Photo credit. Pat (touchy touchy)
- chloe

No one likes a quitter

I have been a terrible settler and Jamestown resident, and I apologize to you, our fans, all 3 of you. We are back on track! Valentines Day was a bust because we reverted to our old habits by drinking red cocktails, eating chocolate covered things, and watching romantic comedies (only for irony folks), instead of finding dates. Good thing we never made consequences for the rules or else I could foresee myself being forced to sit through an eppy of Millionaire Matchmaker as punishment.

Because of my boss, whom I affectionately call "the weave" behind her back, I never got to blog about my stalker. It's true Cate had a much more threatening encounter, but mine is technology-wise better. Here we go, strap in tight.

So I had been pushing off dates with this 6 (his ranking) for quite some time, mainly because of "the weave." I finally have a free day over the weekend and TENTATIVELY (a running theme for us Jamestowners) make plans with him. He seems excited, however, there was NO LOCATION or TIME set. Sunday evening rolls around and I decide I much rather watch 'The Office' and eat Coldstone birthday cake remix (why am I fat?) than force myself to have a conversation with a 6 (at best). He calls, and I ignore it. Ok, that was juvenile, but I wasn't rejecting the date, just putting it off again.

So here is the detailed time of events:

9pm - comes around and I figure I am safe. No such luck. I get a text reading: ? That's it, just a question mark. I ignore it, figuring I can tell him I fell asleep and smooth everything out tomorrow. No such luck.
10pm - 6 CALLS IN A ROW! Wtf, I obviously can't answer now. I am getting slightly concerned.
11pm - 2 more calls back to back. Hmm maybe he is just concerned with my well being?
12pm - 1 more call for good measure I suppose.
12:30 - I go to bed, thinking I am in the clear and intent on blocking him from all internet communication sites in the morning. I figure all the calls warrant a legitimate fear.
6:02 AM!!!!! - 2 more calls. I was sure I was dreaming this one, but when I woke up for real at 8:30 ("the weave" doesn't request my presence until 10), I was assured it was no nightmare.
10am - I block him from instant messaging and the dating site from which I found him.
1pm - He calls my work number, which I NEVER GAVE HIM! I am actually freaked at this point but completely unsure what to do.
3pm - Another text with "?"

The phone attack ended there, but then a WEEK later I get this on a popular social networking site:

1. Clearly you aren't over it buddy.
2. Was there a question in there?
3. What was he trying to accomplish?
4. You effing insane, don't ever call me again mothafuckaa!

I realize I am irresistible, but this was pathetic and what sent me into a reclusive state in which I stared at my freakishly small nail beds all day and refused to log on to my assigned dating site. Don't worry kids, this chick is back and ready to take on the freaks! Bring 'em on!

all my love,
-chloe

It's All Al Gore's Fault!

Some people are goobers. And that's not their fault. They drink beer out of cans and they smash them on their heads. They are Tex-Mex enthusiasts. They think Jessica Simpson is hot. Depending on their arbitrary make preference, they put those stickers of that little boy wizzing on either a Chevy or a Ford on their cars. Many of them enjoy the band Tool. All of them enjoy Nickelback. I went on a date with one of these goobers. Check. It. Out.

1) The place he selected demanded an "OUTRAGEOUS!" (his words, not mine) $7 dollars per margarita, so he suggested we scoot it on down to the nearest generic dive bar. Being the demure and accommodating G.G. I am, I told him I thought that was a great idea, even though I thought it was a stupid and cheap idea.
2) After we sat down with our less-than-seven-bones hooch, he proceeded to talk about Tool. A lot. He talked about Tool without interruption for a good 20 minutes, despite my constant insistance that I don't listen to Tool and didn't know WTF he was talking about. He couldn't help himself. I mean, the sheer magnitude of Maynard's entrance at their last show brought him to tears.
3) He finally did shutup about Tool, though, and we moved on to the "What do you for a living?" conversation. He found out I used to work in the muzak biz and then proceeded to try to promo-guy me on about 50 of his friends' bands. Descriptions like, "They're like Bon Jovi! But they RAP!" abounded.
4) He insisted that Texas has a great wine country now. While I have no idea if that's true or not, I said something like, yeah, it makes sense, the climate is changing everywhere. This comment brought on a shit storm of a tirade about how global warming isn't real, Al Gore made it up for money or something, and it's all a big liberal conspiracy.
5) That's when Jameson shots became necessary. I don't know what we talked about after that (I kind of remember trying to tell him about my passion for touchdown dances?), but I DO know I was equally bored with it and peaced out rather early.
6) I then stumbled home to Jessica, threw my bangles in her general direction, and passed the eff out. The end!

-Cate

PS - Al Gore invented the internet.

They can't be serious, right?

So nothing too noteworthy on the guy front. The first guy I went out with seemed like a little eager beaver at first--asked me to his apartment (but we'd been drinking) the first night, called two days after said first date, you know the one. I got the old "I'm going out of town this weekend" line, but he seems nice enough that I believe him. Anywho... said he'd call me while he was out of town, never happened. Haven't heard from him in about a week. What a prick! I was all G.G. and playing by the rules, too! I should have gone home with him after all!

Busy week at work, so haven't had a chance to meet more guys yet. And, you know, Lost is on tonight, and I've gotta watch that shit! Okay... back to my reason for posting.

So I keep getting these dudes who send me messages on the dating site that are so obviously generic and more or less SPAM! Seriously, I get 6 paragraphs all about you and you don't ask me anything specific you've seen in my profile? I mean, might be different if these guys were hot, or even able to speak English, but they're always complete douches!

Here's my example from today. 28 year old "breast surgeon." Wait... hold up. BREAST SURGEON? Like, is that even a term? Are you a plastic surgeon or are you curing cancer? That alone makes me think he'll rape and kill me, then give me Double Ds and throw my body in the East River. A few other tid bits that just annoyed me to the point where I don't even have to click on his profile to see what a fucking weirdo this one is:

1. His grammar is awful! I mean, it's obvious English is not his first language, but you're a "breast surgeon!" Don't they teach you grammar at breast surgery school?
2. He likes his ladies spontaneous and he doesn't like to tell them what to do. Okay... that right there makes me think that he's now a wife beater and secretly trying to hide his frying pan tendencies.
3. Back to the grammar... I can't on this one. He uses the word "shall" so much that I feel like I'm reading Bible verses!
4. He says he just saw the movie "Take The Lead," and was really inspired by it. Which, I guess, is why he's on a dating website.
5. Okay... one more grammar one. He would be "more than glad if you kindly join me on yahoo/MSN messenger." And also, does no one use AIM? I have YET to have anyone ask me what my screen name is, which is actually a blessing, come to think of it.

I think I'll have to pass on this "breast surgeon."

-Jessica

How I Dodged the 'Roid Rage Bullet Simply By Being Lazy and Inconsiderate

I hit the crazy jackpot! I hit the crazy jackpot! Check this shit out!

Shirtless-man-who-sometimes-wears-shirts-apparently and I had tentative plans for dinner on Monday or Tuesday. We hadn't chosen the day, time, or place, however. Come Monday, I was a little over dating, having had two in a row, so when he called me I chose not to pick up, simply because I needed a break. He left me a very polite voicemail, so I decided I would call him back at my earliest non-annoyance at dating convenience. The voicemail went as follows:

"Hi there! Hope you're having a happy Monday! I had a great time the other night, hope you did too! I'd love to see you again, so call me back when you get a chance."

What a sweet guy! I'll call him tomorrow! Yay! Then bitch went straight up Ike Turner on me. Eight hours after the nice voicemail, I get these texts from him. That's right, plural texts. He had so much rage to share that it spanned two whole text messages! Here is a direct transcript, grammar/spelling errors and all:

"i cant believe your blowing me of you whore! seriusly?! i take u out and by you drinks and u dont call me back???!!?! whatver! good!!! im glad i dont have to worry about catching your diseases now you fucking WHORE! FUCK YOU! WHORE!"

In his defense, this may not be an overreaction. I mean, he did buy me like 2 (well) vodka and diet cokes, and I did admit in my previous post that I wore red hooker heels to our first date. Maybe he meant "whore" in the professional sense, in which case it certainly stands to reason that I may have several venereal diseases. To prevent this kind of misunderstanding in the future, I'm considering only wearing white orthopedic nurse shoes to all my future dates. Then if I get a message with something like, "NURSE! I'M GLAD I DON'T HAVE TO GIVE YOU A PINT OF MY BLOOD NOW! FOR INFUSIONS FOR OTHERS! FUCKING NURSE!" I'll know the gentleman's confusion was the fault of my fashion choices, and not a side effect of his obvious steroid addiction.

ps - That Polish ex-girlfriend didn't move back to Poland. She's still here, and hiding. I know it.

-Cate

Shirtless Hunk Refuses to Put 'Em on the Glass

Brace yourselves, readers. Shirtless man actually wore a shirt to our date. I don't know how it happened, but he somehow managed to put a shirt on before leaving his home, and judging by his all-shirtless calendar of Match.com photos, it may have been for the first time ever. SHIRT VIRGIN! This has to be because it was 20 degrees outside. It's the only explanation. He's a practical man, after all. If this had been a mid-August, or even, dare I say, mid-April date, he surely would have shown up bare, recently-waxed chest exposed without an ounce of shame. And really, I was wearing 4 dollar bangles from H&M and red hooker heels, so who am I to judge?

Anyway, we went to Auction House, he was pissed they didn't have Heineken, we talked about South American dictators, U2 (he's a superfan, and I refrained from making fun of THE MOTHAFUCKING EDGE. I'm a saint!), and his Polish ex-girlfriend he wanted to marry but who ran out on him and moved back to Poland to be an architect. He didn't know why she couldn't be an architect here. We're going out to dinner this week. The end.

sthoy sthause pleathse?

Alas, I have finally had my first internet date and thus have discovered why people need to hide behind their computer screens. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not totally against the idea of internet dating, you can just as easily pick up a loser in a bar as you can in the privacy of your own home, wearing your hello kitty jammies (an absolute must for a G.G.). So, back to the story. I have another AIM stalker, from before I learned my lesson (see my Hamptons post). He is the very worst kind, the second I sign on he makes himself known, even though we have exhausted every conversation possible before actually meeting. I work a billion hours a week, so I can never meet him, but he just won't quit. I find his exuberance and enthusiasm utterly revolting, therefore he shall now be known as, eager beaver.

Since I can't block Mr. Beaver's sorry ass, I went out with him last night. Judging by his pictures, I wasn't expecting an Adonis, just a regular joe with a quirky look, more commonly known as a hipster in these parts. From the first sentence, I knew I wouldn't be able to control myself all night. Why? HE HAD A LISP!!!! How does that happen? Do parents just allow their kids to walk around with that? I mean a slight one is fine, sometimes a little cute, but the man couldn't even order saki properly. Not kidding.

Well of course I made the best of the situation and tried to get him to use an "s" word as much as possible and then made a scorecard for myself. To make the game fair, I gave the beav points for avoiding using "s" words; it would be plain mean otherwise. By the end of the night, I got pretty creative if I don't say so myself. We talked about the finer points of scrabble, I asked him about his experiences sailing, I asked him to place my order without scallions, and even asked him to procure some sodium free soy sauce. Final score was:

Chloe: 73
Beaver: 46

I win! I win! I refuse to believe this makes me a bad person. I blame his parents. I just can't wait until he asks me out on a "sthecond date!"

-chloe

Non-booty call at midnight?

It's okay, Chloe! I've never been to the Hamptons, either. And I've even had connections with Diddy through work! Never even been invited. So it's okay. I understand.

Watched Millionaire Matchmaker last night and WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH THOSE GIRLS? Sheesh! If ever you want to talk about girls settling, that's the show for you! 25 year olds going on dates with 46 year olds? DISGUSTING! ACK! VOMIT! It was actually pretty funny, though! The old guy was naming his favorite bands (U2 and someone else I can't remember), and the girl said her favorite was Linkin Park. LINKIN PARK? Oh, please!

Anyhow, I guess I was slightly inspired by the Millionaire Matchmaker, because at about 11:55PM my guy decided to call me. No way in HELL I was going to answer that late. Now, he'd called me earlier in the evening and left a voicemail. I returned his call and left a voicemail. So it WAS his turn. But midnight? I mean, he does work late, but c'mon!

Poor guy. He did apologize and e-mailed a couple hours later. I honestly don't care. I almost picked up the phone, but that's not what a G.G. would have done now, is it?

If you've never been to the hamptons, you deserve to die

I am obviously the slacker of the group, having not been on dates yet. The competitive side of me is pissed (I WANNA WIN!) but the practical side of me is screaming with glee that I haven't had to see any of these fools in person yet. Since things didn't pan out with IB this weekend, we have just been chatting on AIM. (MENTAL NOTE: Never EVER give your personal AIM to someone from a dating site. You will never have a free moment again and might lose all hope in the male species.)

I want to give you some gems from our conversations today, just to give you an idea where I am getting my angst. It's not only from Alanis I swear! Here we go....

IB: Hey, what's up? Sorry again about this weekend.
Me: No worries. What's going on?

(we talk about what we did this weekend. Boring and annoying.)

IB: Sorry, I had to talk to my boss
Me: It's ok, just don't let it happen again.

(I quickly realize that was a witty banter/ sarcasm, my mind races to rule # 9)

Me: Totally sarcastic by the way.
IB: LOL

(did I mention yet how my stomach turns at the site of "lol" - I'll post on that later. He goes on about more things I don't pay attention to.)

IB: What do you do in the summers? My friend has a boat, which is so awesome. It's a great time. I can't wait to have my own place in the Hamptons.
What I want to say: WHAT DO I DO IN THE SUMMERS? I WORK YA JERK! And the Hamptons? I JUST VOMITTED ON MY COMPUTER.
What I actually say: I actually haven't been to the hamptons. I hear its nice though.
IB: WHAT!? Like never?
Me: Nope
IB: Wow
Me: Yep, never been.
IB: Not even for a party?
Me: No
IB: Whoa, like the white party even?

(I don't think I spelled this one out enough. I H-A-V-E N-E-V-E-R B-E-E-N T-O T-H-E H-A-M-P-T-O-N-S! Got it now? Ok lets move on.)

Me: Not even the white party.
IB: Oh, well it's ok.

It was nice he forgave me for not having been to the Hamptons. I mean I really did commit a felony. For all the zero times I have met diddy he really was a jerk for not inviting me to his exclusive celebrity-only party. I guess I walked into that one by even talking to IB at all. Hope y'all enjoyed my day, we all know I did.

My Date With a Brazilian Imposter

FIRST of all, if you're going to tout up your Brazilian heritage all over your Match.com profile, you should actually be Brazilian. This simply means, when you call me, I expect you to have a distinctly foreign accent that wisks me away to another time and place without the jet lag and travel costs. Instead, what I got on the other end of the phone was a dude who sounds like someone I could meet in a Des Moine Holiday Inn sports bar. Rude! This is not only unsexy, it is also deceitful!

So Des Moine tells me he'd like to take me out for drinks somewhere downtown. Immediately I (mistakenly) assume he'll take me somewhere semi-nice, like Little Branch or Death and Company. Instead, he suggests Kenny's Castaways, which is basically a smelly dive venue for shitty bands that arent good enough to play Mercury Lounge. ROMANTIC! The date lasted all of two hours before I bailed. Here's the stats rundown:

1) His "accent" came and went throughout the date, which means he's not only a dating con artist, but he's a LOUSY dating con artist.
2) He ordered a sex on the beach in what I think was an attempt to look foreign and sensitive, but really just turned out looking lame and vaguely gay.
3) He went to DeVry.
4) The band played only orignal Dutch socialist jingles that somehow sounded like Heart song parodies. Des Moine was very impressed by them. Very.

After their set was done I escaped to gayville to be with my people. And Chloe. THE END!

-Cate

Or Something?

After talking to a boy (a sailor even!) online ALL DAMN DAY today, I finally got what I think he considered to be a date offer. Upon hearing that I'd have to work all night tonight, he said, and this is a direct quote: "Aww, I should at least take you out for a hot dog or something."

This was said with no irony. "Or something?" There are no words. I ignored this offer and kept ignoring all his other not-even-as-nice-as-Sizzler offers until I got him to pony up and ask me to dinner (surprisingly, at a place nicer than Sizzler) on Friday night. Since he's clearly an idiot, I hope to be reporting some hilarious results on Saturday morning.

-Cate

"No fat chicks please!"

Well kids, seeing as how its after 10pm and I am still at work, I think now is the time to address some important issues. There are 2 disturbing things I came across in my interweb-man-searching that have been bugging me all day. The first, which gave me the inspiration for this post, was under the "what I'm looking for" section of my assigned dating website. It read, "No fat chicks please." I think it was nice he was kind enough to say please. I don't need to really talk about that one anymore, just had to throw it out there. Although I do wonder what his thoughts on politics are!

The second phrase I would like to discuss is, "work hard, play hard." What does that actually mean? Doesn't everyone work hard then have a good time? I think I might need someone to explain this one to me. I am not even trying to be silly, I don't get it! I have never heard a gay man speak this way, so it can't be all guys.

As for a date update, for various reasons, things didn't happen with IB this weekend. Don't cry! New dates are being scheduled shortly. Kisses! (G.G right?)

-chloe

One down, TONS more to go!

Sorry for the lack of updates! We didn't all three meet sketchy dudes and get raped and killed this weekend! I swear. See... we live! ALIVE!!!

I met my first dude this Sunday to watch the Giants game. All in all, good time was had. I've been talking to Cate and Chloe, and out of the three of us, I'm the closest to a G.G. I mean, sure, I still like to do non-G.G. things like get drunk, meet bartenders and go home with them. But I actually kind of like guys. Well, sometimes.

So anyway, my dude was really normal. And I stuck to all of the rules like a pro! Drank Bud Light (I figured I had to drink beer since it was a sports bar). Talked about a few G.G. things. Knew NOTHING about guy movies (though that's not a stretch for me, I really don't know shit about movies). Guess the date went well because he asked if I wanted to go back to his place as we were leaving. I said no! Holla at me! I fucking said no! The real Jessica would have for SURE gone back to his place. No kissing either.

AND... get this! That was Sunday, and today is Tuesday, and he already called me. Interwebs... I'm not talking about an e-mail. I'm not talking about a text message. He picked up the phone, remembered my name and he called me! Shocked, I let it go to voicemail. But I just called him back, so here we go! I'm turning into a G.G. !

-Jessica

Being a G.G. ain't easy

Damn! I really wanted to see Cloverfield last night. Had to catch a concert instead. And sadly, it was a pretty hipster show, so not too many G.G.'s around. But that's okay. I've known and still know quite a few G.G.'s that I'll grab my inspiration from.

These rules are going to be the end of me! Not that they're hard to follow, but I'm starting to feel like a puppet master, pulling the strings on these guys and manipulating them to do and say certain things. Is this how G.G.'s feel? Are they aware of this manipulation? I'm not sure!

My first guy, who I'm supposed to meet up with on Sunday, is being a goddamn girl about what bar we should grab drinks at. I can't. I'm trying to be as girly as possible, saying things like, "Sunday sounds great! Let me know what you're thinking," and "Let's definitely do that on Sunday! Just let me know where you want to go." His e-mails (SIDEBAR: YES! We're still only communicating through e-mail. He hasn't given me his AIM or a cell phone number yet. And being the good G.G. I am, I have to wait until he either gives me his number or asks me for mine. Cate and I were talking today... seems like the guys on Match are WAY more forward than Yahoo! She's going to be on the phone all damn weekend! Haha... ok, I'm back...) back to me are, "Do you know of a place that's not too crowded?" So in an effort to make sure this date doesn't fall through, I at least suggested a neighborhood. It's hard being a girlfriend girl!

-Jessica

Spy Caper! (Kind of...)

As Chloe and I were mopping up the ginormous blue Slusho she spilled on me at last night's Cloverfield screening, I noticed a very fancy lady out of the corner of my eye sporting a defiant, "Just try and entertain me -- I DARE YOU!" look on her face, and lightning struck! This pouty yup is the G.G. I shall spy on tonight!

The great thing about observing G.G.'s as opposed to, say, falcons or quasars, for example, is that you don't need to trek out to nature OR purchase a high-powered telescope to see them. They're not only available everywhere, but they're also visible to the naked eye! Even covered in melted blue raspberry corn syrup I could effectively complete my Project Jamestown homework from the comfort of my Lowes cineplex seat. This is a great victory for science.

As soon as I was as dry (but still very sticky) as I was gonna get without a shower and a change of clothes, I set out to gather intel from the lady. This is neither here nor there, but in my head I chose to call her "Miss Thang," because I enjoy nicknames about as much as I enjoy talking like RuPaul in my own private thoughts. We all know I'm list happy, so here are the things I saw, in linear form:

1) Miss Thang made her boyfriend get up to get her things about 97 times. Unfortunately, I didn't notice what any of those things were or how she got him to do it because I was blinded by his german shephard-like obedience.
2) When he was away said 97 times, Miss Thang slouched in her chair, continued to pout through her Lip Venom gloss and text-messaged her friends non-stop I'm guessing about how annoying it was that she had to spend Grey's Anatomy night watching a nerdy monster movie.
3) Miss Thang had that hairdo you can only get through a complicated process of using curlers and various expensive hair products. And it was raining outside. This is a classic G.G. superhero ability I must learn.

Overall, I learned I must: Pout unyieldingly, demand things, and act annoyed. I'M NUMBER 1! I'M NUMBER 1!

-Cate

All I need to know, I learned from Meredith Grey

Ok G.G's! The weekend is upon us, which means our first set of PJ dates! I guess that also means I have to get my obligatory manicure, which I no doubt will pick off in less than 24 hours. Eh, what can you do? Back to business... Cate and I were enjoying dinner at our favorite New York hotspot (how G.G is that?!) when the best thing that can happen in a New York restaurant fell right into our laps. We were seated next to the ever-popular "annoyingly-interesting-girly-conversation-girls." JACKPOT. Just what we needed for our research, plus we all know Cate is having a hard time finding a G.G sponsor. We all love our lists, so here is what we learned:

1. G.G's don't care what the reviews say, "Sweeney Todd" and "Atonement" just don't look that interesting. They want to see ENCHANTED and they don't care who knows it!

2. It is perfectly acceptable to not go out on a Thursday night if "Grey's Anatomy" is on. Meredith Grey is our lord and savior.

3. "My Dad would like totally kill me if he like ever saw me with a tattoo."

4. Never drink too much before "Grey's Anatomy," you will totally miss the subtle gentle nature of the Meredith/McDreamy relationship (absolutely not kidding on this one).

5. Seeing a midnight showing of a monster movie is definitely not a priority.

Granted these girls weren't the most posh gals New York has to offer. But it was helpful to see how much work we have in front of us. I am however, in utter shock that "Sweeney Todd" isn't a G.G fan favorite. I know there is a whole mess of blood, but I just figured Johnny Depp would cancel that out for them. He's oh so dreamy!

-chloe

Investment Banker

Ok, so I promised before I would talk a little more about my dates for this weekend. SQUEAL! I hate to brag, but my first time at the rodeo, and I got the bull by its horns. What am I talking about? And how do I know what happens at a rodeo? I am just guessing, but anyway.....ladies and gentleman, who am I kidding? No man is reading this. Ladies, I have scored the top prize among New York single women....the INVESTMENT BANKER. He even has an investment banker name along the lines of Richard or something (have to keep identities secret), but from now on, he will be known as Investment Banker, or IB.

I personally don't get it, money thing aside. I know I won't have a single thing in common with this dude. To attempt to figure it out all I had to do was throw "dating" "investment banker" and "New York" in my handy google search bar, and voila! Hoards of articles and sites pop up about how to snag an investment banker. LUCKY ME! I even found out my boss is dating one! Everyone is doing it! Summer in the Hamptons here I come! I guess I have to make it through the first date, but I have a feeling that won't happen. Since Jess and Cate have made lists today, I don't want to be left out! (can you tell I am the youngest child in my family?) Below you will find the reasons IB and I are destined to fail.

1. No matter how hard I try to stick to the rules, at least one ounce of sarcasm will slip out. I am sure an investment banker has never seen that on a woman before.

2. I aint a blonde.

3. My rack is just average.

4. I know nothing about money.

5. Battery Park scares me. Not for the same reason as Cate. Don't mention the Statue of Liberty to her. EVER.

6. He probably dresses like this:


I don't stand a chance... why can't a shirtless man pursue me?

-chloe

Nasty, nasty boy!

I'm sorry! I just had to post this. Why are there a ridiculous number of super douchebags out there?



That image came out squished to hell, so I'll leave a transcription:
"Hey there sexy once i set my eyes on u, they are crazy glued onto you, it's really hard to get them off you...get @ me k peace."

Haha... poor kid, but shit! He did it to himself. There are a number of reasons I couldn't resist this one.

1. 20 years old and you're on a dating website? Jesus! I'm just about 25, and it seems like nearly everyone on these dating sites are way older than me.

2. Sorry you can't see, but the picture is HILARIOUSLY gross!

3. The language.

4. And the grammar.

Prince. Charming.

-Jessica

"G.G.," Where You BE At???

You guyyyyyyssss, I'm still trying to find my "Girlfriend-Girl" sponsor. Since Chloe and Jessica are the only females I really hang with, I am TOTES FREAKING OUT! I mustn't ignore rule #14, so I'll be loitering around Forever 21 later today eavesdropping on G.G.'s, (if they're not with a friend they're on their ill razor with a friend,) and studying their behavior. This is an amazing idea for three reasons:

1) These particular G.G.'s shop in my price range.
2) Forever 21 doesn't seem to have a stance on loitering.
and,
3) I can pick up yet another pair of supercute, $3 gold hoops.

This should serve as a placeholder until I can figure out a real life G.G. to befriend and study. Over and out.

-Cate

ZOMG A SHIRTLESS HUNK!!!

Minutes after signing up for Match.com, (and paying eleventy billion dollars for their non-Dr. Phil package,) I received my first email. In case you're not familiar with the way Match works, an email is a step above a "Wink," which is free and basically just a way for someone to ask you if you think they're disgusting or not. If you wink back, they know you don't find them gross, and THEN they email you to ask you out.

So that being said, I was surprised my first suitor decided to skip the entire wink process and boldly email me with a "hey cutie! can i take you out sometime?" Such confidence! As the rules state, I have to accept this date unless I think he'll likely assault me, so I headed on over to his profile to gauge assault likelihood. HERE IS WHAT I FOUND:

1) He is a personal trainer (Free consultation! W00T!)
2) As such, he is ripped in that weird, 1950s, Jack LaLanne, bodybuilder kind of way, and has chosen to upload only shirtless photos of himself. Shirtless in Italy, shirtless in a hot tub, shirtless AT THE DAMN 7-11. He's like a shirtless "Where's Waldo." FUN! This goes on for about a dozen shirtless photos.
3) He's apparently HILARIOUS! His friends think he should be a comedian! A SHIRTLESS comedian! This will revolutionize the comedy world, believe me. Carrot Top, watch your ass.

Nudity aside, I've decided that although he definitely has the brute strength to assault me, he probably won't. I shall get on board with shirtless man and date him this weekend. Standby for updates.

-Cate

A lesson in decorating

Alright, I have secured 2 potential dates for this weekend (more on that later.) I don't want to have too much on my plate, (I can barely remember my co-workers names,) so I have transferred my efforts for the rest of this week to doing some significant research. In between my force-fed Jamestown Project required viewing of American Idol, I flipped back and forth between some matchmaker show hosted by some homo. I had no idea gay men were the authority on straight relationships. You learn new things everyday, I suppose. It's just that to all the gay men I know, (and believe me, it's a lot, they are my people,) straight men are more like alien creatures to them than us women. At least we know what keeps the straighties happy for 10 min or so (if we're lucky.)

I digress... So the mo' went into this single gal's apartment and said that her room had to be more feminine. HOLD. THE. PHONE. More feminine? Do straight guys like that?! For real? I mean I thought my one saving grace was that my bedspread is green and my sheets are brown. Sexy, right? I figured guys don't want to sleep on pink sheets. So basically my bedroom has to look less like this:



and more like this:



By the way, that first picture is totally not my bedroom. Mine is WAAAAAY messier and I am far less patriotic. So, needless to say, aside from my dates this weekend, a trip to Bed Bath and Beyond must be planned. I hope I can stomach buying a flowered dust ruffle.

-Chloe

Appropriate internet language

Well hello internet world! This week marks a lot of firsts for me. First blog post, first week sans diet coke (must find new vice), and most importantly my first foray into the internet dating universe. As we embark on this Jamestown journey I have become increasingly more aware of the flaws in our male counterparts. I know that's harsh, but I honestly don't know any self-respecting woman who would would start off a potential romantic interaction with: "hi babi, u r lookin hoT tonite!"

Now, I'm not saying I'm the next Nick Hornby, or I suppose for this project my inspiration should be more along the lines of Nicholas Sparks (girly-girls just LOVE 'The Notebook' and I hear 'The Wedding' is real tearjerker. VOMIT), but when did it become too difficult to write out full words like "you," or "are"? Well, I know the first rule states:

"You must accept EVERY date, unless the datee is absolutely gross or looks like he'll probably kill and/or rape you. You know the kind."

However, I classify bad grammar as an indication the person is probably capable of murder or rape. It angers me to no end, and if I weren't bound by these rules, the sight of a "tonite" would have been the end right there, but alas, that is not the point of our exercise. Thoughts? Nonetheless....I have a date this weekend!

-chloe

Poppin' the Jamestown cherry!

Welcome to Jamestown! And look at me... already snatching up dudes! I decided to do Yahoo! Personals. Sifted through the gross "hey mami!" messages and found a half way, non-rape me and kill me kind of dude, and started talking to him. But he's a fucking Boston fan (hah.. not the band, just sports)! Shit... watch this last until April and I have to buy a pink rhinestone Sox hat, since the rules say I have to.

So the guy actually seems pretty normal and nice. We've e-mailed back and forth a few times. He asked if I wanted to grab a drink in his second e-mail to me, so I got super girly and said, "I'd love to!!" Yes, two exclamation points. I felt it was necessary. So the guy suggested grabbing drinks Saturday night after he saw his friend's play. Not too keen on that idea; sounds too like too much of a booty call. Which actually sucks, cause normally I'd probably be so into that! But my new girlfriend-girl persona (not to mention the rules) say, "NO SLUTS ALLLOWED!" At least on the first date.

Anyway, just waiting to hear back on plans for the big date! Haha... this is hilarious! Go Jamestown!

-Jessica

The Rules of Jamestown

1) You must accept EVERY date, unless the datee is absolutely gross or looks like he'll probably kill and/or rape you. You know the kind.
2) You must accept every second date offer.
3) Absolutely no sex until the 3rd date.
4) Absolutely no making out on the 1st date.
5) No gay activities allowed on dates, ie, "Musical Mondays" at Splash, Marie's Crisis, etc.
6) You have to let the guy pay on the 1st date, and he must pick the place.
7) You can't introduce him to your friends until the 5th date. You can meet his friends whenever he wants to introduce you to them, however.
8) You must keep up with and report on your "boy interest" homework weekly. This is to insure that we all have the best ability to appear as "girlfriend-girls" on our dates. The assignments are as follows:
Cate: Fanboy movies and TV shows, old and new.
Jessica: Sports
Chloe: Current events.
9) You must avoid seeming overly witty or smart on dates. Sarcasm in particular should be avoided altogether.
10)You must pretend you like the Yankees. Purchasing a pink, rhinestone-bedazzled Yankees hat is highly recommended.
11)You must also keep up with "girlfriend-girl" interests, ie, Perez Hilton, In Style magazine, American Idol (and all other low brow reality shows directed at the young female demographic,) etc.
12)You must keep up with high maintenance hygiene activities. The specifics can be left up to the individual, but a weekly manicure is ABSOLUTELY MANDATORY.
13)You must have a date for Valentine's Day, AND your birthday. If your birthday IS Valentine's day, then we guess you just scored a freebie.
14)You must find a "girlfriend-girl" sponsor. This is a 20-something girl you know who is an expert "girlfriend-girl." Befriend her and emulate her appearance and conversation topics on dates.
15)A weekly brunch between Jamestown participants (sans dates) to discuss your progress and review strategies is mandatory.
16)You must like stupid boy humor. As far as you're concerned, Wedding Crashers was fucking hilarious.
17)You must work out AT LEAST 3 times a week.
18)You must order girly drinks (apple martini, vodka and diet coke, white wine, etc,) NOT BEER, on dates. If you must order beer for whatever reason, only Bud Light or Michelob Ultra are acceptable choices.
19)You are not allowed to drop out until you have completed 1 year of Project Jamestown.
20)You must not fall in love.

Project Jamestown Mission Statement

To behave and think as a "Girlfriend-Girl" would for one year, and to settle for the best relationship New York City has to offer, as all our attached friends have done. Our mission is to get boyfriends so our mothers stop nagging us and to prove that we too are capable of swallowing our pride and lowering our expectations.